


Afraid of the Dark

by slashyslash



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Best Friends, Binge Drinking, Brian Banner's A+ Parenting, Bruce Banner Feels, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Bruce is like a little boy, Camping, Childishness, Cocaine, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Bruce, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Bruce, M/M, Nightmares, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Platonic Cuddling, Poor Bruce, Protective Tony, Recreational Drug Use, Scars, Science Bros, Stuttering, Teddy Bears, Thumb-sucking, childlike bruce banner, cuteness, fear of the dark, guys in tents, mental age regression, nurturing tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-17 15:30:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9331598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashyslash/pseuds/slashyslash
Summary: It's July 4th, 2018, Steve Roger's 100th birthday ("Oh, come on guys, I'm onlytechnically100"), and the Avenger and S.H.I.E.L.D. boys are going for a couple of guy nights in the woods to celebrate. Sleeping in tents, fishing, getting wasted, and just generally being "manly" together are all on the agenda. Tony just knows he's going to love it, except for that whole "roughing it" business.Bruce, on the other hand, isn't so sure. He doesn't do well at night. He's always been able to hide from the others how he gets scared in the dark, how his past comes back to haunt him -- the worst of the punishments always came in the night -- how he sleeps with a teddy bear and feels more like a timid little boy than an adult. How the hell will he hide these things on a camping trip?He can't skip out on Steve's birthday, though, so he takes his chances, doing his best to stay strong. But soon the stress of being out in the woods, away from home and his usual comforts, and confronted with the others' binge drinking and drug use overwhelms him. Getting through the trip will mean showing his true colours to Tony, and Tony will have to grow up in order to take care of the best friend he loves so much.





	1. No Bears Allowed

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I don't know if anyone else (in the whole WORLD, really) is into this kind of story -- guys acting young and being cared for, but with no diapers, baby talk, spanking, playing with toys, etc... just a childish demeanor, usually due to past trauma, maybe a little thumb-sucking cuteness, and a need for reassurance and comfort from another, more dominant, man. Basically, it's something that has always been a weird fantasy of mine, and I thought I was the only one until I discovered things like "littles" and ABDL. But I don't totally fit those things... for instance, diapers are not my thing _at all._ So, readers, I'd be really interested to hear your comments if you're into this sort of thing, if you have any story recommendations that fit this sort of criteria, or if there's a name for this so I can seek out more. Or just let me know if you like this particular story, of course, I always enjoy reading comments. Happy reading!

Bruce took the fluffy brown teddy bear out of his suitcase and pushed him into his usual place at the back of his sock drawer. “Sorry, Albert,” he whispered, as he piled the socks and underwear up like a wall to hide the bear, then laughed at himself inwardly for feeling the need to apologize aloud to a silly stuffed toy. Still, he wished he could bring him. He didn’t know if he would get through the nights very well without Albert. And what if he woke up after a nightmare? Without the bear… well, he’d just have to find some other way to sooth himself. _Or, you can just sleep,_ he thought to himself, frowning, _you fucking coward. You don’t have to be such an idiot about it._

Tony told him everyone sleeps better in the fresh air. Tony, who didn’t even want to go rough it in the woods (with no super powers allowed) because he hated that sort of thing; Tony, who packed his electric toothbrush and hair dryer before Clint told him there’d be nowhere to plug them in; Tony, who was bringing a wide assortment of liquor and drugs because, according to him, nature was “hella boring.” Yes, that Tony was trying to make him see the bright side of camping. Bruce shuddered to think he’d have no real escape when night came and everything started to feel scary like it always did. At worst, he’d be sitting around a campfire with the rest of them, with no excuse to get away; at best, he’d find a reason to go into his tent… but they would hear if he cried, or if he yelled out in his sleep.

The worst of the torment always happened at night. It had when he was little and it still did, in the form of flashbacks and a general anxiety about darkness, to this day. He flipped open his suitcase once more and placed a flashlight in the spot where the teddy bear had been. At least a flashlight was practical; no one would laugh at a flashlight.

It was Tuesday, the early afternoon of July 3rd, and tomorrow would be Steve Rogers’ birthday. “The big one-oh-oh,” as Tony insisted, although Cap took issue with the notion that he was one hundred years old. He said he felt more like thirty, tops. Tony, of course, would not be swayed, and persisted in calling the birthday boy a centenarian. 

The plan was to drive to the campsite this afternoon, several miles, and set up their tents in time to build a fire for dinner. Tomorrow they would really go crazy wild, partying throughout the night for Cap’s b-day bash, complete with a spot on the lake where they would have a good view of the nearby fourth of July fireworks. They would then spend one more day and night (though Tony and Clint both claimed it would be two more if there was enough booze left), renting a boat for fishing, swimming in the lake, and playing Poker – all that guy stuff – and pack up in the morning. 

They had had to rent a large group site since there would be seven tents (Bruce’s, Steve’s, Tony’s, Clint’s, Sam’s, Thor’s, and Phil’s) and were taking just two cars to save space.

Bruce rode with Steve in Phil’s car, and the others took Clint’s mini-van. With everyone excited about the “boys trip,” Bruce felt extremely out of place and sat shyly in the back of the car, gazing out the window while Steve and Phil chatted happily in the front.

“Bruce?” Phil called back from the driver’s seat. “I asked if you’re gonna get totally wasted with us tonight.”

“Huh?” came the hesitant reply. “Oh, um… yeah, maybe. I mean, if I’m not too tired. I’m used to going to bed kinda early, so… we’ll see.”


	2. Cocaine and Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group gets high and Tony notices Bruce is acting more strangely than usual.

“Hey, aren’t you Tony Stark?”

Two pretty young women in pyjama pants and tank tops, their hair in messy ponytails, stood gaping from the gravel road that ran in a figure eight through the campsite at Tony, who was trying in vain to thread one rod of his tent’s frame through the tiny loop in the blue canvas. It figured: even in the middle of nowhere he got recognized. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for being so famous. And charming. And the richest, best looking guy in these woods. Now if only he could get this damn tent up.

“In the flesh, ladies,” he answered, then called over his shoulder, “Coulson! Coulson, come put this up for me!”

With Phil reluctantly taking over tent duty (“Jeez, Tony, what the…? You’ve got everything in the wrong place. I’ve gotta start it all over!”) the women introduced themselves as Taylor and Scarlett from the red tent at site 39, just around the bend in the road. 

“So, pj’s in the middle of the day? Is this some sort of camping custom?”

“Oh, yeah, totally,” Taylor assured him, twisting her blond ponytail around her index finger. “But don’t worry, it’s not like we didn’t get dressed today.”

She looked at Scarlett, who laughed and wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, when you sleep in the nude, putting on pyjamas _is_ getting dressed.”

Tony cocked an eyebrow. “You said just the one tent for the two of you, right?”

“Yep.” The girls giggled.

Tony silently praised the Lord. Maybe roughing it wasn’t going to be so bad, after all. “Listen,” he said, “you two should come over for a drink tonight. Maybe a little nose candy?”

“No way, Tony!” Steve shouted from where he was setting up folding chairs around the fire pit. “You said this was a guys only trip, and that’s the way it’s going to stay. Sorry, girls.”

Tony glared at him -- _just because he’s a prude, he thinks he needs to ruin everyone else’s fun_ \-- and leaned in closer to the women. “Looks like Captain Party Pooper wants to kick out anyone who doesn’t have a dick,” he murmured. “But come over after everyone’s in their tents tonight, when you see our fire’s out. Mines the blue one the skinny dude is setting up over there.”

Phil rolled his eyes and continued hammering the pegs into the ground. “Tell me again why I’m doing your work for you, Tony?”

“Because you love me, of course.”

***

As the sun began to set, they split wood for kindling and started a fire, searched out good long sticks in the woods for roasting and whittled the ends into points with Phil’s pocket knife, cracked open some beers, and cooked their hot dogs over the open flames. It was dusk by the time they were all seated at the picnic table, eating from paper plates and shivering a bit in the cool evening air.

Tony squeezed in to the almost nonexistent space between Bruce and Thor on the bench, snatching a potato chip from Bruce’s plate and shoving it in his mouth before the other could grab it back. Bruce just smiled up at him and rolled his eyes. God, he loved seeing that smile. Tony knew he was the only one who could make Bruce smile just by teasing him a little like that. The others had to try much harder to get a genuine smile out of him, and most of the time they didn’t bother trying at all. But Tony liked to make sure he acknowledged him often, even if it was nothing more than sitting beside him when there was really no room or stealing a chip. Otherwise, it was easy for the guy to fade into the background, where he would be left out and forgotten, since he was usually the quiet one of the group.

“Ghost stories tonight?” Sam asked, eagerly. “Anyone know any good ones?”

“Yeah, ghost stories with a side of illicit substances.” Clint looked at Tony. “Right, Stark?”

Tony jumped up on the bench, knocking over a bottle of ketchup, which Bruce quickly righted. “My name is Tony,” he announced, “and I will be your drug dealer for the evening. Everything you could want in the form of pills, leaves, or powder.” 

Everyone laughed and clapped as he hopped down, even Bruce. He knew Brucie wouldn’t partake, though. Tony had never known him to even be much of a drinker; must be that need of his to always feel in control. He shook his head, unable to imagine living that way – after all, “completely out of control” was Tony Stark’s favourite state of being. And he looked forward to spending this entire camping trip out of his mind on every drug known to man.

***

“… And all that remained of his friend’s face was the same gaping, bloody hole he had seen in his nightmares… and around that hole, the marks of a mouthful of fangs.”

Tony shone a flashlight on the picnic table, where he was cutting several lines of cocaine, while he listened to Clint finish up his ghost story. “Not scary,” he called in the direction of the campfire. 

“Fine, let’s hear you tell a better one, shithead!” 

“Not now, I’m busy getting you sissies fucked up.”

He snorted two lines for himself first, rubbed a bit on his gums to speed up his high, then called the others over and handed the rolled up hundred to Steve. “In honour of your centennial,” he said, motioning to the white powder on the table.

Steve made a face and snatched the bill. Tony watched with amusement as the Captain did a line, knowing that his normally straight-laced friend had never done anything like this before, but was determined to be “one of the guys” on this trip. 

“First time for everything,” he chuckled, heading for Bruce, who hadn’t left his chair by the fire and was still nursing his first beer of the night, while the rest of them were already shit-faced. “How’s it going over here, Bruce?” he asked. Bruce had been even more quiet than usual tonight, and he could see his slight body trembling in the fire light.

Bruce looked up at him and bit his lower lip. “It-it’s so dark,” he whispered.

“Mm-hmm.” Tony looked up at the patch of black sky through the tops of the fir trees. No moon, no stars. Clouds must have covered them all. He looked at his friend’s face and saw for sure now what he had only thought he might be seeing earlier in the night: he was upset. “You okay?”

Bruce nodded, slowly. Not too convincingly.

“Be right back.” Tony turned and went to his tent, running because the drugs and the excitement of the night were giving him a ton of energy. He wished Bruce could be having this much fun. Coming back with a blanket, he motioned for his friend to scootch forward so he could secure it around his shoulders. “You looked cold.”

Bruce’s hands shook as he pulled the blanket across his chest. He brought one hand to his mouth and bit down on the knuckles, chewing. “You’re drunk,” he said softly over the back of his hand. “A-are you high, too?”

“Gettin’ there.”

A corner of the blanket slipped down, and Tony reached to pull it back over the shivering chest. Bruce flinched at the movement, shrugging his shoulders to his ears so that the blanket fell away completely. Tony covered him again, tripping clumsily on the leg of the chair, too drunk already but only just getting started. “You sure you’re alright, B?”

“Hey, Tone!” Phil shouted, smacking the picnic table with his hand. “Get your ass over here for another round!” 

Tony felt his heart speed up and knew the coke was really kicking in now. Damn, he felt good. But his buddy… Well, he wanted another line, so he told himself Bruce was fine. After all, he claimed to be fine… the guy was the king of keeping his feelings to himself, though. He could be having a stroke and he’d still tell you he was okay. Tony looked at him for a while, wondering why his hands kept trembling, why he looked so lost. He’d never seen him like this.

“Hey, Bruce?” he said finally. “If you need anything tonight, you know where I am, okay? Even if it’s the middle of the night, just come on over to my tent if you need to. Besides, I’ve got snacks in there.”

He expected Bruce to say something like, “You never share, anyway, Tony,” or lecture him about how keeping food in his tent would attract bears. But he didn’t say a word, just looked at the ground and pushed his toe into the dirt until Tony turned and left him there.


	3. When the Last Light Goes Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When everyone goes to bed, things get bad for Bruce. He realizes he can't handle being alone and goes to his best friend for comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains disturbing details of abuse. If you like that sort of thing because it makes you go "aaawww, poor little Brucie!" then by all means, read on! ;)

Steve and Tony were wrestling. Clint had jumped in, too, saying he was on Steve’s side, but seemingly fighting both of them. They rolled together through the gravel and dirt, yelling and grunting and laughing, beating each other mercilessly even as they grinned. They fought like warriors but yelped like playful puppies, then got up dirty and stumbling, each wrestler thinking he was the one who came out victorious. The others shouted, climbed on the picnic table, threw rocks into the trees just to make noise. They were loud and wild in their revelry, and not one of them knew what was going on in Bruce’s frightened mind.

It was much too dark, for one thing. He had moved his chair closer to the fire to be in the light, but now it was hot on his face and his jeans were burning against his legs. He sucked in a breath and tried to smile a bit, aware that he looked abnormal and out of place, the only one who was afraid. He was thinking about being burned… how that felt… how burning skin could smell so awful you’d vomit from the mix of stench and pain… you were bad if you did that, though, so you’d get burned again.

He had felt himself turning inwards earlier when the sun went down, during those scary ghost stories the guys were telling, and now he was at the point he always got to at night where his mind felt fuzzy and he had trouble getting his words out right. He couldn’t think. He felt too little and scared. And he had discovered he hated ghost stories, at least out here in the woods and in the dark, where there could be wild animals and murderers and even real ghosts. He wanted to stick his thumb in his mouth, but he couldn’t in front of the guys.

“You nnneevvveeer, eeevvvveeeer talk to me, Doc.” 

It was Clint, and he came behind Bruce and put his arms around his neck as he slurred out the words, leaning too hard into him and almost knocking over the chair before he got his footing.

“Hey!” shouted Steve, still the responsible one, even though he kept rubbing his nose and sniffing like a junkie. “Careful by the fire.”

“What, I’m not sssmart enough for ya? That it, Doc?” 

Clint was still hugging him. There was a smile in his voice, but Bruce didn’t trust it. He was scared of him. He was too loud, too cold, fought his enemies too viciously.

“I gotta talk science? Huh? Then you’ll be my pal. If I sssmarten up.”

He fought to answer, but the words weren’t coming. Finally, he managed to stutter, “I- I- I w-wanna go to bed.”

He sat frozen, every muscle tensed, until finally Clint let go of him. He hoped to rush into his tent, then, but evidently the group members were feeling friendly because each one insisted on giving him a hug goodnight. He endured it, keeping his eyes fixed on the fire, the only source of light, which was rapidly decreasing as it burned up its final log and began to die. 

As soon as he got into his tent, though, he pulled his knees up to his chest and rocked himself back and forth, sucking hard on his thumb for comfort. He wished he’d brought Albert, that faithful teddy bear, his secret nighttime companion. He listened to the guys outside: Thor crushing his fourteenth beer can on his forehead, Tony suggesting they all piss on the fire to put it out. Then the sound and smell of pee as they did just that, and the sounds of them unzipping their tents and saying goodnight, and the darkness.

He quickly switched on his flashlight. His face was hot, his legs shaking… panic was setting in. _Mmmm… mmmm…, _he moaned, rocking harder, his thumb still planted firmly in his mouth. So dark and he was so alone. This was when Daddy would come in. Home from the bar, tripping over things, swearing under his breath or, on the worst nights, terrifyingly loud. And Bruce had been bad again. Probably didn’t clean the house good enough, maybe forgot to turn the porch light on before bed or didn’t close the garbage lid tight and the crows got into it. Daddy would take off his belt and pull him from his bed, (Bruce rocked and rocked, trying to stay quiet as the tears flowed) and he would beat him until his arm was too tired to swing it anymore. Then, if Bruce was lucky, he would leave him there on the floor, bruised and bleeding. But on the unlucky nights…__

__Bruce searched the tent for an Albert replacement. A towel from his suitcase, rolled up tightly, was the closest he could find, and he held it to his tear-drenched face as he changed into pyjama pants, keeping his socks and sweater on against the cold._ _

__On the unlucky nights, Daddy would stand in the doorway, catching his breath, and if little Bruce looked he could see in the man’s eyes that he had enjoyed beating him and was hungry for more. Then he would lift Bruce’s battered body and place him on the dirty mattress, and Bruce couldn’t breath with his face pushed into the pillow and the weight of his Daddy’s body on top of him…_ _

___Tony._ He wiped the back of his hand across his face, rubbing tears and snot and spit all over. Tony had said he could go to his tent. He didn’t want to, he was so ashamed, but he couldn’t... just couldn't... be alone in the dark anymore. He had to go._ _

__***_ _

__“Tony?” His voice shook. He could see Tony’s silhouette inside his tent; he had a light on. He was awake, thank god, he was awake._ _

__The silhouette shifted, there was the sound of a zipper, the tent flap opened, and Tony, still fully dressed, stuck his head out._ _

__“Hey, B, what’s up?”_ _

__“T-t-t-tony…" He felt like a little boy, begging for help. "Cou-cou-could I get in with you for-for-for a, for a while?”_ _


	4. Bros Before... Well... Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has to make a decision about what's important to him... but this is Tony Stark we're talking about: doing the right thing doesn't come easy, especially when there's hot sex involved.

Bruce huddled in the corner of the tent, knees to his chest, eyes darting everywhere, as if he was on high alert for danger. One hand tugged nervously at his hair, while the other clutched at his knees. He didn’t speak.

“Bruce, what’s wrong? You’ve been acting strange all night, buddy.”

He didn’t answer. Tony waited patiently, watching him. Finally, his eyes stopped darting and instead, stared up at him, wide and innocent like a pleading child’s. His mouth opened, but for a moment he only stammered, unable to get the words out. 

“Ummm… mmmm… scared,” he managed, still looking up at Tony.

Tony tried not to look as confused as he felt. As far as he could tell there was nothing to be scared of. So what was going on, then? Bruce looked and sounded so small… was something happening to him, mentally? All he could think to say was, “Don’t be scared, B. There’s no danger here; it’s just camping. I was scared, too, when I found out I couldn't watch Netflix in my tent.”

Bruce nodded stoically at his dismissiveness, hanging his head. He bit his lip. The poor guy looked ashamed, broken. Damn it, Tony hated seeing him that way, especially when it was his fault for making stupid jokes, which it usually was.

His friend’s lowered head shot up in a moment, though, when they heard footsteps approaching, then a female voice near the tent flap, calling softly, “Tony Stark, you in there?”

Tony grinned and bobbed his eyebrows at Bruce. “This’ll take your mind off it,” he whispered. “Two hot chicks I met earlier.”

But he opened the flap to find Taylor alone. “We thought you could come to our campsite,” she offered. “You know, more privacy without all your friends around.” Then she peered past Tony and spotted Bruce. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were sharing a tent.”

“I’m not. I mean, I wasn’t, anyway. That’s my buddy, Bruce Banner.” Tony tugged on his shoes super fast, still feeling the effects of the cocaine, and motioned to his friend. “Bruce, come with us.”

Bruce was still tugging at a lock of hair. He shook his head and stuttered with effort, “N-n-n-n-no, no th-th-thanks, Tone.”

Tony went to him in his corner of the tent – now that he had his shoes on, he had to crawl to keep his sleeping area clean – and murmured in his ear, “Look, I’m still pretty fucking high, so I’m not exactly ready to settle down for the night, if you know what I mean. I’ll be back in an hour, though, promise. You’ll be alright for an hour, won’t you? Just one hour? You can stay in here, if you want.”

Bruce nodded, but his reply of, “Uh-huh,” came out high pitched and strange, and he wouldn’t look Tony in the eye, or even the face. He didn’t look like someone who would be alright on his own for an hour. _No, no, he’ll be okay,_ Tony told himself. _He’s just not used to camping. He doesn’t need me worrying about him, and I’ve got two beautiful women who’re probably just itching to fuck me. That’s an opportunity I can’t pass up._

So he left his friend with a quick pat on the cheek, which he hoped somehow conveyed reassurance and affection, and tried not to look into his frightened eyes.

***

Taylor was a total fox, even in the same pyjamas she’d worn all day, and Tony kept shining his flashlight in her eyes to see her pretty face.

“Quit it, Tony Stark,” she laughed. She kept calling him “Tony Stark,” which was getting a bit irritating, as if she was so used to hearing his full name on the news that she couldn’t just call him “Tony.” She grabbed the flashlight and shone it at him, then shoved it back in his hands and said, “Hey, you’re friend’s pretty weird, huh? Like, with his stutter and all. Like, what’s up with that? He sounded so weird.”

Tony frowned. “Well, he doesn’t usually talk like that. He’s not weird, anyway, just eccentric. And he’s a genius, so he’s allowed a little eccentricity. When you get to know a few geniuses, you realize you can’t have one without the other.”

“Well, why didn’t he come with us? Doesn’t he want to get layed?”

Tony raised an eyebrow and shone the flashlight at her face again. “Are you saying I’m getting layed? Be honest, now.”

She giggled, which was enough answer for him to know he was definitely getting some tonight. He cheered for himself, silently. _Tony Stark, you the man._

“Well?” Taylor pressed. “What’s wrong with the guy?”

“You’re talking like he’s crazy or something. Bruce’s just… shy. And like I said, he’s an eccentric genius, so… just leave him alone. He’s awesome, okay? He’s not weird.”

“Okaaay, jeez.”

They rounded the corner and came to campsite 39, with that red tent that Tony knew would be his fantasy come true on this trip. Two gorgeous strangers, no strings attached, and he would likely never see them again. Fuck, he loved camping!

Scarlett popped her head out of the tent. “What took you so long?” she squealed. “Get the hell in here, you two!”

She took a long swig from a bottle of vodka while she held the tent flap open for them, then fell back on a pile of blankets, obviously extremely intoxicated. Tony flopped down beside her and gently brushed her hair out of her face. He took the bottle from her hand, drank, and set it down on the floor of the tent. 

“So…” He reached for Taylor’s hand and pulled her down on his other side. “What do you girls do for fun in here?”

They both giggled in answer, and Taylor tugged his shirt, coaxing him onto her. He pressed his lips to hers, then explored her mouth with his tongue as he felt Scarlett’s fingers set to work undoing his belt buckle.

“Mmm,” he murmured against Taylor’s lips. “You don’t really think there’s something wrong, do you?”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“My friend, Bruce. He did seem weird, right?”

She made an annoyed face. “Yeah, like I told you, he’s a total weirdo. Now can we forget about him and get back to…” she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back into her embrace “…this.”

But he couldn’t. He had ditched his friend when he so obviously needed him, and now he felt like shit. He had been a selfish jerk.

“Taylor, Scarlett,” he said, “no offense, but I’ve got something much more important to do right now. I hope you understand. Well, actually I don't care whether or not you understand, because he's my best friend and nothing else matters. But maybe you’ll let me continue this tomorrow night if you’re still here because I really, REALLY want this. Trust me, I do.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, instead running back to the campsite as fast as he could, making it in about fifteen seconds and berating himself the whole way for leaving Bruce alone like that. He fumbled with the tent zipper, nearly ripping open the flap in his anxious hurry. Finally, he managed to push his way inside.

And there was Bruce, curled up on the bare canvas floor beside – not even on, but _beside,_ for god’s sake – the air mattress, shivering without a blanket, even though there were a bunch of blankets he could have used. That was just typical Bruce, though, and Tony knew it… the poor guy never thought he deserved any comfort.


	5. Bedtime Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony finally realizes how much Bruce needs him. It's bedtime, and he's not going to let his little buddy out of his sight.

Bruce lay curled in the foetal position, the way he had learned to protect his stomach from blows. He was clutching Tony’s lantern, turned up as bright as it would go, and shaking with quiet sobs and with the cold. He didn’t want his friend to see him this way, to know what a loser he was, and how fucking weak. He wanted to run away, but there was nowhere safe. Where would he run to? His tent, where he would only be alone again, unbearably alone without Albert? Into the woods where it was even darker and scarier? No, he couldn’t make it through this night, never mind two more, facing his nightmares alone. He needed Tony.

“Bruce?” He heard him crawl over and felt his hand gently tug at his left arm, the one he was using to cover his head, another protection from imaginary blows. Tony’s voice was soft and kind. “Brucie, buddy, I’m sorry, man. That was shitty of me to take off on you like that, wasn’t it? Come here.”

He let himself be coaxed to a sitting position, ashamed to lift his tear-stained face. “I-i-it’s still n-nnnighttime, Tony,” he forced out. “It’s too da-da-da-dark. I don’t – I don’t li-like it, Tone.”

“Oh, god, B…” Tony took Bruce’s chin in his hand and tipped his face up so he could get a good look at him, then pulled his sleeve over his hand and used it to wipe the wet eyes. “Shit… I’ve never seen you cry before. Listen, I’m a fucking idiot; I never should have left you alone. But… help me understand this, Bruce. You’re really _that_ scared? Of the dark? Why didn’t I know this already? Why didn’t Jarvis tell me? He must know, that jerk -- always keeping secrets from me. And you thought you were going to have to sleep in your own fucking tent tonight, _by yourself_? No way, B, you get your butt up off this floor and into my bed. I’m getting your sleeping bag, and when I get back you better be making yourself right at home, you hear me? I want to see extra fucking cozy, mister.”

For a moment, Bruce felt himself relaxing. He almost smiled. Tony was being playful, teasing about giving him orders, but he was really inviting him to sleep there with him. Then he realized he was being left alone again as the only person who could protect him pulled on his shoes and unzipped the tent flap.

“Mmmmm…” Bruce whimpered, biting his knuckles, unable to form any words in his panic.

He didn’t have to say anything, though – Tony must have read the fear in his expression because he reached for his hand with a reassuring if slightly exasperated smile and tugged him out into the night.

“Now,” he whispered, “this is a covert mission, Agent Banner. We need to be extra cautious; there could be spies planted anywhere.” And he made a silly show of ducking to hide behind the picnic table, tiptoeing around and pressing his back against the trees that surrounded their campsite, pulling Bruce along behind him and never once letting go of his hand. 

Bruce couldn’t help but smile now. Tony wasn’t going to abandon him in the dark.

They retrieved the sleeping bag and hurried back to Tony’s tent, both shivering. Tony watched for only a moment as Bruce started making his bed on the floor.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He laughed and shook his head. “You’re sleeping on the air mattress with me. We may be roughin’ it out here, but we’re civilized people, Brucie; we don’t sleep on the _ground_. Besides, it’s freezing – you can keep me warm.”

Bruce reluctantly dragged his sleeping bag onto the air mattress, feeling shy about it, but happy to be closer to his friend.

“Much better.” Tony didn’t bother getting undressed, just slid into his own sleeping bag and flicked off the lantern beside the bed. “G’night, buddy.”

As soon as the light was off, Bruce felt panic set in again, and he started shaking uncontrollably. He could feel Tony’s warmth beside him but couldn’t see a thing, even though their faces were mere inches apart. Then he felt Tony’s strong arm around him, tugging him closer, and a reassuring voice murmur, “Aw, Bruce, you’re still scared? Don’t worry, I’m right here.”

He brought his head in close to Tony’s shoulder and felt Tony nuzzle his cheek into his hair. It was warm like this, and safe. _This is snuggling,_ he told himself. He had never snuggled with another person before. It was much nicer than a teddy bear. 

As he let himself relax and be held, he heard the other whisper, “This is the best, isn’t it? I love camping. And I think I heard an owl while we were out there. That was cool...”

He listened to Tony quietly ramble on as he drifted into a deep sleep.

***  
_In the dream, he is sitting in the comfy leather chair in Daddy’s office. He has always liked this chair because you can spin it around and go for a ride. Daddy is lighting a cigarette at his desk. Bruce wants to leave now, but he can’t get up. His arms and legs are tied..._


End file.
